Thirteen Minutes
by OstelanExcruciasm
Summary: It's nearly three in the morning and Saix can't get Axel out of his mind. He wants nothing more than to sleep, but his body has other ideas. Warning: this entire story is sexual content


_Author Note: This takes place in the same universe as my "Nobody is Heartless" story, but it is not necessary to read that story in order to follow this one._

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_2:47_

The minutes were _crawling _by. How was it that so little time had passed since he'd last looked at the clock? The thing had to be broken. Saïx was _positive _he'd managed to kill two hours just staring at the ceiling in silent meditation. He was exhausted. He wanted to sleep. He tried to sleep. So many weeks on edge, working himself to death, trying to keep the whole damn Organization together in the midst of a harrowing crisis. For once, he agreed with Xemnas. He so desperately needed the rest. Even an hour or two was better than nothing.

He lay in bed with his eyes closed, just breathing. Repeating the mantra in his head until the words ran together. Emptying his mind, relaxing his body, waiting to drift away. He was a patient man. He had plenty of time.

Take those pestering thoughts and set them aside.

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

Take those discomforts — the ache in his head, the tightness in his neck, the tossing and turning in his stomach — and let them be there. Accept them. Acknowledge them. Then, let them pass.

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

Take the stress, the echoes of emotion, the deafening noise inside his mind, and let them all melt away. Disregard time. Become aware of the body's rhythm and count the beats.

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

Sinking into the mattress, he felt both heavy as concrete and light as a feather. He was floating through the air. No, swimming. He was swimming inside a dark void. There was no ground, no sky. There was nothing. There was nothing at all. Only him, swimming blissfully along without a care.

The mood was shifting. He soon began to feel heavier and realized he was no longer swimming. He was sinking. He couldn't breathe. He was drowning. The sea of blackness was swallowing him up. He opened his mouth to scream for help. There was no sound. He tried to flail his arms and legs, desperate to reach the surface. His limbs were locked in place. He was completely paralyzed. He would sink to the bottom, and he would suffocate before he ever reached the floor.

With a sudden jolt, his eyes sprang open and he took what felt like his first breath in several minutes. The void was gone, and he was back in his room, lying atop the sweat-soaked sheets on the bed beneath him. He could move his limbs again, stiff though they were. He could still feel the weight pressing on him, but at least he could breathe. He took a moment to settle the frantic huffing and panting, gradually diminishing the rapid drumming inside his heaving chest. _It was just a nightmare. _ He cursed his trigger-happy instincts, annoyed at the disproportionate response to something as harmless as a dream. _It's not fear, _he reminded himself. _You were startled. It's completely different._

He sighed, sitting up in bed and taking another glance at the clock.

_2:51_

_Seriously?_

The pounding behind his sternum was slowing, and his breathing was stabilizing, but at this point, sleep was certainly out of the question. His head was spinning slightly and he took a moment to reset his equilibrium before standing. He was still shaking, but thankfully his legs could carry him. With nowhere to go, he paced the floor for a while, lost in thought. He thought of Vexen, missing somewhere in that mysterious world. He thought of Roxas, deteriorating rapidly day by day. He thought of Axel. Their conversations. Their arguments. Their intimate encounters.

_Don't you dare._

He traipsed to the window and climbed onto the sill to gaze at the moon. He'd shed his coat hours ago, and he shuddered at the chill of his skin resting against the cold glass. The moon was as lovely as ever, glowing brightly against the pitch black canvas of the sky. He could bask in its beams for hours each day, never feeling more relaxed than when its dim light reflected onto him. Oftentimes, he felt as though the moon was his only friend, easing his loneliness and healing his pain, like any loving companion would do.

But just like any friend he'd ever had, the moon betrayed him. It beckoned him, promising peace, only to give him chaos. In his darkest hours when he longed to feel its soft hands caressing him, in their cruelty, those same hands would close around his throat, choking the life out of him. He'd swear never to trust the moon again and endeavor to always resist its advances. But it was futile. The loneliness and the pain always came back. The desperation for the moon's comforts would climb until it was unbearable. In his weakness, he would always dive back into its gleaming arms and invite its energy inside him, letting it possess his body like a toxic lover. The relationship was complicated, swinging back and forth between extremes so quickly that Saïx could develop vertigo from the sudden shifts. It was exhausting. Manic euphoria when it was good, and hell on earth when it wasn't.

Much like being with Axel, he thought. Always on and off, always baffling and infuriatingly unpredictable. Agonizing, but blissful. Unstable at best. Dangerously unhealthy at worst. But with never a dull moment. Most of the time, Saïx couldn't keep up with him. By some affliction of poor judgment, he had loved the man once upon a time. It was difficult not to. Axel made him laugh when nothing else would. He was kind and compassionate to him at a time when Saïx needed it the most. He seemed to always know just the right words to say, and when he didn't, just his company was more than enough. He was simply perfect in every way.

_Stop that. Control yourself._

Saïx quickly dismissed those thoughts. Axel had left him when he was already at his lowest point, and he never looked back. He cast off their history as if it were merely a fiction, discarding years of companionship in the blink of an eye. He threw away their relationship without a shred of remorse, and now he toyed with Saïx, dangling hope in his face only to snatch it away. Using him as just a warm body to lie with when the nights got lonely. Axel was selfish and arrogant. Those transgressions far outshined any redeeming qualities the man possessed. Axel had betrayed him, just like the moon did.

_2:53_

Saïx dropped from the window sill and flung himself back onto the mattress. The clock became so irritating that he could no longer look at it. Never had he perceived time to pass so slowly as it was now. Just how would fill the rest of the night? There was nothing left to do. He'd already had a shower. He'd already drank his tea. He'd already taken a long walk. He'd finished all of his work. The boredom was beginning to go to his head. It was on nights like these that he wished Axel would come calling. He'd lie in bed, listening to the empty silence, awaiting that precious knock on the door — the highly-anticipated proposition that would never come.

Before he realized what was happening, he felt a familiar knot tightening inside him. He'd spent too much time dwelling on his escapades with Axel, letting himself get wrapped up in his desire for his old friend's company until he was beset by a gnawing ache that demanded to be relieved. The tension only increased when he closed his eyes. To his dismay, he saw Axel's face as if the image were plastered to the backs of his eyelids, forcing him to gaze upon that winsome smile as the man drew one shuddering gasp after another from his lips. Only Axel could make him whimper like that.

_No. Not now. Not tonight._

His eyes shot open, taking in the blankness of his ceiling once more. He worked to purge his mind of all thought, letting his unblinking stare pierce into the pure white canopy above him. How many hours of his life did he waste fixated on that same dull abyss? He recalled so many nights just like this one — lying awake in bed, truly embracing the concept of 'nothing.' He would focus on the clock, watching the minutes drag on. He would count the cracks in the wall, the wrinkles in the sheets, the echoes from the corridor. He'd comb the tangles out of his hair until his scalp was sore. He would let his mind wander. He'd think on Axel again. He'd reminisce with perfect clarity about those nights wherein he lay in that very spot, throwing his head back into the pillow, his eyes widening at the apex of pleasure as he squirmed under the man's undulating form. How blurry the ceiling had looked through his tears as he accepted Axel graciously into his ravenous body. How flawless and stunning his face was, elegant as a renaissance painting, framed by a background so bright that it resembled a divine halo. How deserving the man was of such a crown.

The scene was intensely erotic, taking Saïx aback with its potency. The ache returned with a vengeance. Tension formed in his pelvis, radiating to his groin. It vibrated beneath his skin, coursing through him like an electric current. The heat was positively sweltering, sending beads of sweat down his temples. He was burning up. How poetic, he thought. Axel specialized in fire, and in that moment, Saïx was convinced he'd been set alight.

_That's enough. I'm not in the mood._

He clenched his fists, ignoring the impulse. Those memories were now tainted by Axel's transformation from lover to traitor. His sins were unforgivable, as far as Saïx was concerned. As exhilarating as it was to love him, he now looked upon the man with only contempt. He let the scorn fill him, the tidal waves of anger washing over him. He would not devote another second of his time to fantasizing about Axel. That dream had died long ago.

_2:55 _

The tension continued to rise despite his diligence, and he chastised himself for entertaining such primitive desires. He could be angry at Axel all day and all night and he would still welcome him into his bed without a second thought. He would still pin him down and plunge into him in a heartbeat if he could. He would be just as ruthless and feral as he always was, his pace just as wild and unforgiving. He could almost hear the sound of Axel's voice crying out at the height of absolute euphoria. He could feel the man's legs around his waist, his fingers clawing at his back. He could see the glint in his pleading eyes as he begged for more.

The heat was unbearable. The tension was starting to hurt. His pants were tight. Too tight. Perhaps if he just opened the clasps… Just to relieve the pressure. He didn't have to do anything. He just needed more room. Saïx was quick about unbuckling the belt. He popped the button open and drew down the zipper. His hand brushed against it. It was the lightest glance, completely accidental, but it was enough. He shivered at the unexpected twinge, immediately removing his hands before he could be tempted. Exasperated by his obvious state of arousal, he covered his face with a groan. He was supposed to be stronger than this. He was supposed to have it under control. He should have been able to exert some self-discipline and simply order it to cease and desist. But, in spite of his efforts to restrain himself, and in defiance of his wishes, he'd fully risen to the occasion — an occasion that _wasn't going to happen, so you can return to your post, sir._

Room to breathe became room to grow. For every passing second he spent trying to rid himself of his persistent craving, he only stiffened further. In his shame, he couldn't even look at it. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing it to go down. _For heaven's sakes, just leave me alone. You're not getting any this time. _Images of Axel continued to bombard him until he was rigid as stone and quivering impatiently like a stubborn itch demanding to be scratched. It wasn't going to listen to him. It wasn't going to obey him. There was only one way out of this, and he had no choice but to get it over with.

He took his time as he let his hand slide down to the waistband of his pants. His fingers dragged very gently along their trek until they made contact with warm, pulsing skin. Saïx twitched as he let them traverse the entire length of him. They were slow and meticulous, addressing every inch with a touch almost timid in how light it was. They crept through every crevasse, exploring him like it was unfamiliar territory, and yet they knew exactly where to go, which spots to target.

He gained a brief moment of lucidity. He heard the voice of reason in his head, calling him back to his senses. There was still time to stop, it said. He could still change his mind and have a cold shower instead. He could still reject his own shameful urges, roll over and pretend to sleep. It wasn't too late.

And then it was. With a long, defeated exhale, Saïx surrendered. He kept his eyes closed, refusing to watch himself submit to such loathsome, primal impulses. His fingers abandoned their tantalizing caress and wrapped tightly around him, gentle at first as they pulled backward with slow, deliberate strokes. They knew just how to move, just how to hold him. Their speed, their grip, their placement were all expertly precise. This would be easy, he thought. He could make quick work of it and be finished in no time, finally able to concentrate on damn near _anything _other than Axel.

For the moment, however, that insufferable redhead dominated his thoughts. His striking features, his slim figure, the exquisite sound of his voice, cursing into his ear in breathless gasps. Saïx let himself indulge, if only to end this pitiful self-gratification sooner. He became lost the memories of Axel grinding eagerly into him with his hips, his grasp so fierce that Saïx bruised in his clutches, the warmth of his wicked tongue lapping at his skin in places that made even _him _blush. Axel was so bold, so hungry, so irresistible. He brought out Saïx's animalistic nature so easily — a beast that only he could tame. There was simply no denying that, however disfunctional the relationship might have been, the sex was downright _savage._

In many ways, this session was much like the others. Quick, effective, and at least mildly entertaining. Routine, but not boring. His strategy hadn't changed; he'd utilized the same reliable techniques for years. Why, then, did it feel different now? He was far more sensitive than usual. Even more so than when he was still human. He might have even said that it felt _good_ this time. Almost as good as when Axel took care of him. That man had always handled him so well. He was brimming with variety and skill and carried an arsenal of superlative tricks. He had studied his partner carefully, learned his weaknesses, assessed his limits, and never once failed to satisfy him, possessing such virtuosity that he may as well have been a professional.

Thankfully, the fantasizing was proving to be a success. The knot inside him tightened, the threads so taut that they threatened to snap. The ache bordered on excruciating. He gritted his teeth as his face contorted into a grimace. He was close. _Already? _The pressure was steadily mounting at a dangerous pace until he was teetering on the brink, seconds from falling over the edge. In a way, he took comfort in knowing that it would be over soon so that he could forget the whole thing and move on with his life. At the same time, he didn't want it to end. He was _enjoying _it. Lying there and thinking of Axel as the pleasure climbed to staggering heights, biting his lip and clenching his fist, was alarmingly pleasurable. He almost wanted to hold back, to prolong the experience. It was too good to finish so soon. He slowed his strokes, taking a few breaths. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling again. Anything to rein it in for a bit longer.

Now, even that damn ceiling had betrayed him. He could have sworn he saw a faint outline of Axel's silhouette against the white surface overhead. Saïx snapped his eyes shut, hastily wiping the image away. But there he was again, leering down at him with that amorous glower. He could see the man so clearly, as if he were truly there, hovering over him, watching him, _daring_ him to finish. Saïx always accepted the challenge, testing his endurance. It never mattered if he'd win or lose — each outcome would reduce him to a dazed, trembling mess.

The sensations were more pronounced than ever. He could feel Axel's breath on his neck. He could taste his lips, his tongue. He could hear their heavy breaths, panting against each other's bodies as they pressed tightly together. It was too much. He wasn't going to last. He couldn't stand the pressure any longer.

He'd always thought there was something rather anticlimactic about climaxing alone. There was no spectacle, no celebration. Just a drawn out wince, a few soft grunts and a weak tremor, with only dead silence to follow. Such was the nature of masturbation — a performance with no audience. This climax, however, was one of the most powerful that Saïx had ever achieved by himself. The severe bend of his torso as his back arched, the spasmic thrusts of his hips, and the tight grasp of his fingers around the bedsheets were all so uncharacteristic for him. Where he usually came with a stone face and a disappointed sigh, he now dug into the mattress, throwing back his head, his mouth agape in a silent scream of pure ecstasy. In his surprise, he could only gasp as he let himself be blinded by the pleasure, writhing as the waves crested and the pressure crashed in his center. It was astounding. Bewildering. The last time he'd felt this good, he was buried inside Axel as deep as he could reach. Back when they were together. Back when they had hearts.

Nearly ten seconds had passed and it didn't stop. He was going numb, but he refused to let go. He'd bask in this moment for as long as possible. He figured an entire minute had passed before it finally wound down. His thoughts were all static — incoherent noise and fuzzy images. His body was still spasming with the aftershocks of his climax. He couldn't move. He was still hard. Still panting. Completely dumbfounded. It was all so odd, so foreign. The memories were so _visceral_. The release was so _sweet_. The pleasure was so _real. _ Were he still human, the intensity might have brought him to tears.

_What the hell was that?_

It was when his body was relaxing and he felt the dreaded warmth spilling onto his belly that his mind began to clear. His consciousness returned gradually and the chaos in his head untangled itself. That was when the relief faded and the embarrassment — the shame — kicked in.

He would have liked to brush it off. Something in the tea. Influence from the moon. Perhaps he was still dreaming.

_Just who are you kidding?_

There was no sense denying the truth. It was Axel. It was always Axel. Without even being in the room, Axel had managed to permeate his mind and magically spike his libido. By some form of witchcraft or other such trickery, Axel had somehow made the whole experience more intense than it would have typically been. Without a single touch, Axel had once again made him come so hard his eyes watered. Saïx sighed in defeat as he reached for the box of tissues. Another orgasm that smug bastard could take credit for. Another mess with his name on it.

Even after he'd cleaned up, he felt dirty. In the silent battle over his own willpower, Axel had stolen yet another victory. No matter how bitter Saïx wanted to be over their falling out, just the _thought_ of the man could send him soaring. In spite of his disdain, he still swooned at the sight of him. Even in all his resentment, he still watched the door, still waiting for that knock, still lying on only one side of the bed, leaving the other half open for just the ghostly fantasy of the companion who would never join him. Saïx hated that man. He hated his dazzling green eyes. He hated his captivating smile. He hated his bold red hair. He hated every inch of him. Axel was poison. He was the most delicious poison Saïx had ever tasted.

Another sigh. Another wasted night. He rolled his head over, catching a glimpse of the clock.

_3:00_

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Thanks for reading! Hope you had as much fun as I did!


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